


Refraction

by Nakimochiku



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Demon!Dean, Humiliation, M/M, dean/others - Freeform, deancest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's demon self is the only one who can give him what he really needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refraction

“You came back.” There’s a mocking lilt to his voice, as though he ever doubted that would be true. Dean bristles. He strips out of his top layers so he’s standing in the dingy hotel room in a tee shirt, jeans popped open so that the demon can see the swell of his cock in his boxers. The eyes watching him flick black, and he’s never been able to read anything in those eyes except hunger and amusement.

“You knew I would.” Dean replies, gruff and surly. His skin still tingles with sweat, he feels tense and tight and he just needs to come. He needs for him to make him come because no one else can make it as good as he does. He strips completely naked and waits as those eyes flick back to green and observe him, twinkling and crinkled at the corners with the promise of a laugh.

“I did, didn’t I?” he muses, and steps around Dean to take all of him in. “That little lover of yours ain’t doing you right, I can tell.” His thick, hot hand trails down Dean’s spine, and he forces himself to stay still to let him take him in, feels his nose and the nape of his neck as he breathes his scent deeply and knows that this demon feels a possessive thrill when Dean comes to him smelling of someone else. “Doesn’t know how to handle my pretty fuck toy.”

He doesn’t say it like a question, but Dean swallows and nods. A laugh huffs across his ear, and strong hands grip his hips. Dean can feel his cock hard against his ass through his jeans and shudders. He doesn’t want to talk about anyone else, he just wants to be used, he just wants –

“Pretty cock, pretty face, doesn’t know there’s nothing beyond that of use except your tight hole and those plush lips. Is there?” Teeth dig hard into his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, Dean lets out a strangled cry.

“There’s nothing.” Dean agrees, trailing a moan. He gets a soft snort for that, and suddenly oil slick black eyes are filling his vision and he smells cheap whiskey and cheaper aftershave  and old leather and he feels so at home in it he almost melts.

“On your knees.” He moves around to Dean’s front and gazes down at him, still a heady mix of hunger and amusement, his grinning mouth seeming full of vampire fangs. The hard outline of his cock is in front of Dean’s nose, and he doesn’t have to be told; he noses along it, finds the zipper with his teeth and pops it open. Other than that the demon remains fully clothed, just watching him. “What does your little lover tell you, hm?” he asks, words coloured with laughter as Dean whines and mouths at his cock through the cotton of his under shorts. “That you’re good? You’re precious? You’re loyal and lovely?” Dean squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the cock in front of him, tugs the cotton away to reveal velvet warm skin, pink and soft.

He tongues the length of the thick vein up the underside of the cock, kisses the pink, shiny head before taking it between his lips, sucking hard, cheeks hollowing as he looks up through his eyelashes, gratified by the hand that fists his hair hard and forces him to take the length of his cock, so that it brushes his throat and he makes a wet pleading noise. “You and I both that’s not true, don’t we, Princess? You and I know what you really deserve.” Dean makes an agreeing noise, closes his eyes to focus on sucking, on opening his throat for the cock to slide mercilessly, roughly in, swallowing around its girth, saliva dribbling from between his puffy, used lips.

“You’re pathetic.” Dean moans and sucks harder. “You’re weak, dishonest and frail.” His hips move, thrusting into Dean’s mouth, and he’s so hard just from the gravel of the voice above him, the cock fucking his throat. He moans again, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. “You’re only comfortable when you’re killing things like the blood thirsty monster you are. And when you’re not you’re just a hollow shell of a man. C’mon Princess, take that cock like a good little fuck toy.” Dean whimpers, opens his mouth a little wider, despite the ache in his jaw, to obey. He wants it hard, he wants the demon to fuck his throat hard and fast and raw, he wants to choke on his cock.  He wants him to stop talking and to never shut up.

The demon laughs above him, all whiskey rough and humiliating. “This is what you’re good at. Fucking and killing. This is all anyone needs you for.” His voice is breathless and strained now, head tipped back so Dean can see the line of his throat, the slow bob of his Adams apple, his clenched jaw scruffy with stubble, his pink mouth curled into some vicious expression, hungry and impatient. His hips are snapping forward so his balls slap against Dean’s saliva slick chin, and the grip on his hair is so tight it’s painful. Yes, he moans, mouth stretched and open and just taking it as the demon fucks his throat the way he needs. Arousal coils and flares in his belly, so hot he pants around the cock, licking it as best as he can as it slides in and out. A graze of teeth at the underside and oil slick black eyes are fixed on him, blazing, vicious and so hungry Dean thinks he could black out. “You’re nothing without this. You’re nothing at all.”

Dean moans and suddenly he’s coming in a rush, head spinning and swimming, mouth slack as the demon thrusts all the way home, Dean can’t breathe, choking on his cock, swallowing inelegantly. With a moan he comes, murmuring something like “swallow it all Princess, that’s right. Cum slut.” Dean whines when he’s released, leans into the rough palm resting against his cheek, the gentle thumb that brushes away a tear from beneath his eye. He leaves Dean on his knees for a long moment, just watching him, before he moves away, turning down the covers of the motel bed, pulling his shirt over his head. Dean creaks to his feet, feeling stretched tight like the skin of a drum, and so relaxed.

“You staying the night or?” He asks casually. He waits a moment for his answer and smirks knowingly. “Or are you gonna go back to your little lover, to be told how good you are even though you hate it. When do you think that trick is gonna get old?” he laughs suddenly as though he’s thought of something funny. “Do you do it so you have an excuse to come see me?”

“You tell me.” Dean grunts as he pulls his clothes on, as gruff and surly as when he came in, watching green eyes twinkle with laughter as he crawls beneath the covers naked. “You know me best, after all.”

“I do, don’t I?” Dean agrees, watching his weak little counterpart pull the hotel door shut behind him with an air of finality. He tips his head back and laughs so hard it sounds like a howling beast. “You’ll come back, Princess!” he shouts, knowing Dean is standing just outside the door. “You always do.”

Outside, Dean shoves his hands into his pockets and agrees. His demon counterpart is this only one who understands just what he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> wow i'm human trash, this isn't even a taste of what i want with deancest, but i have things to do, so have this snippet.


End file.
